Last Daughter of the Gods - 4

When it took a full week before Father’s attorney visited, I knew without a doubt that Father was responsible for the malfunctioning camera recording my office door. I was exactly where he wanted me.

“Why didn’t you call?" he asked, "Your Father is worried about you.”

‘Great,’ I thought, ‘now this is my fault.’ “I warned him this might happen,” I replied coolly.

“You warned him that the police would arrest you?”

“Are you here to do something useful, like post my bail?”

“Aw … bail. No, I’m sorry... but no.” He held his hands with the tips of his fingers touching – a nervous gesture he uses when he thinks he is being delicate. “Your Father thinks it best that you stay here for now. The Underworld is temporarily closed.”

“Until September when Mother returns?”

“I don’t know.” I finally realized that he was more uncomfortable than I had ever seen him. When he finally asked if I had a message for my Father, he turned his eyes away in embarrassment.

“Sure,” I answered sarcastically, “ask him if he plans on waiting until Mother returns to bail me out of the mess He made.”

The following day when I was escorted to the interview room, the District Attorney was waiting for me.

After the detective introduced him and motioned to the chair, I sat, the District Attorney gazing uncomfortably at my horns.

“Soma … I would like you to share with me what happened when Michael Konstantinos visited your office.

“What … like word for word?”

“As best you can.”

“Okay. After he sat, he told me that he would like to meet El Diablo. And I replied, ‘Surely you’re joking.’

“‘Not at all,’ he said, ‘I’m here to see the Devil. You look like you might know him.’ He grinned at me like he had said something funny. ‘This is the Underworld, right?’ he continued.

“Of course, I told him that the Underworld is a gentleman’s club and not literally Hell.”

“What did he say to that?”

“He called me a derogatory name that I do not care to repeat and told me to find the boss.”

“And you replied?”

“I told him to get the hell out my office or I’d have him thrown out.”

“And then?”

I shrugged. “And then he left.”

“Michael Konstantinos left just like that.”

“He fussed some and waved his Glock around like he might actually shoot me. But once he realized it wouldn’t get him what he wanted, he left with a warning.”

“A warning?”

“He told me if he didn’t hear from the owner in the next 48 hours, that he would regret it.”

“And then he left.”

“That’s right.”

“Except that he didn’t leave, did he Soma? I believe you were already told that one of your office camera’s showed conclusively that he never left your office. Furthermore, we have confirmation of the same from the staff. I don’t think you appreciate the gravity of the situation you are in.”

“What exactly do you think I did with them?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

“How much incriminating evidence did you find in the office?”

“So far, only the recording.”

“I did not kill him or his bodyguards. Would you like to give me a polygraph?” That much was true at least.

“Not at this time. We are still investigating the scene.”

After they returned me to my cell, I wondered what Father’s end game was for me. First the camera and now the staff have corroborated the recording. The only surprise is that He did not plant any evidence in the office for the police to find and lock me up for good. It all was very puzzling.

After I told Konstantinos to get the hell out of my office, he pulled a Glock from the inside of his jacket and rested it on the desk pointed toward my midsection. “Cut the comedy. I won’t ask again. Get your boss, now.”

The room shook slightly, the bodyguards exchanging nervous glances. As surprised as they were, I was more surprised, surreptitiously glancing at the panic button on the floor beneath the desk to ensure I had not accidentally stepped on it. As the room began to descend, even the boss furrowed his brow before picking up the pistol and pointing it at me. “What the Hell is going on?”

I wondered the same, feeling sorry for him, even as he threatened me. The bodyguard nearest him pulled out his pistol and said what should have been obvious to all of them. “Boss … this is a big, fuckin elevator.”

Standing abruptly, he briefly turned away from me, and gestured toward the doors. The two men nearest to them walked over and tested them, but they wouldn’t budge and don’t have knobs or handles on the inside anyway. “I wouldn’t try shooting them – solid steel. Ricochet.”

He turned back to me and pointed the Glock at my head. He was finally serious. “Stop this thing or I blow your head off.”

“Decided you don’t want to see El Diablo after all?”

“What?” He lowered the gun, his face registering genuine fear for the first time. Just as he pointed the gun at my head again the floor shook a second time. We had arrived. The doors began to slowly open as a hot wind blew into the office and I removed my sunglasses. The lights began to dim as Hell's darkness slipped spectrally into the office. In a matter of moments, the light would disappear altogether.

He picked that moment to pull the trigger, once, twice, three times without the answering shots before dropping the useless pistol to the floor as if it had burned his hand.

“Your guns only work in your world,” I said as the last of the light disappeared and the only thing visible in the moment was the animal shine in my eyes. “You’re in my world now.”